


To Break a Heart

by GlowRock



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust Being Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust-Typical Sexual Content (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), F/F, F/M, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), M/M, Multi, Protective Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Husk (Hazbin Hotel), im going to include probably every trope imaginable in this, theres a lot, watch out there's sex ahead whoooooops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24603076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowRock/pseuds/GlowRock
Summary: Love. Hate. Life. Death. Success. Failure. Betrayal. Realization. Grief. Anguish.All of these words illicit emotion. All of them have ruined lives. To deny that these exist within each of us is to deny existence itself... and some much rather live in denial than face the truth and consequences of their actions.Unfortunately, in Hell, all are living in denial.A princess, who preaches redemption, but is a defiance of redemption itself.A protector, who in trying to defend, places her ward in danger.A deviant, who by trying to avoid what is considered normal, ends up being exactly what people expect him to be.An announcer, who denounces all vulnerability, thereby leaving a target on his back.These are only a few examples of the sorrow that one meets in Hell. Watch as the sinners finally learn what life never gave them the opportunity to realize. Watch as Royals find that trust is not so easily given and ignored. Watch as an angel falls.
Relationships: Alastor/Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Charlie Magne, Alastor/Mimzy (Hazbin Hotel), Chaggie - Relationship, Charlie Magne/Vaggie, Lilith Magne/Lucifer Magne, Rosie/Mimzy (Hazbin Hotel), alastor is a narcissistic asshole and i know someone just like that, alastor is incredibly narcissistic tho, all of them at one point, also please understand that nothing the characters do that is bad will align with my beliefs, and - Relationship, but also shipping hell, but i promise youre going to see, help me honestly, honestly these arent the only ships in here and im going to totally have like, i will NOT write sexual abuse, so theres going to be emotional abuse, theres going to be verbal abuse, theres probably going to be physical abuse, these are really the only prominent ones in this chapter because you guessed it, they do the deed - Relationship, this is hell we're talking about folks, welcome not only to hell, which is why the al/al ship is in the tags
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	1. To Break a Heart: Chapter 1: The Game is Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone is connected by one common interest.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"A place to work towards redemption! Yaaay…"

Hatchet grinned. The princess was pitching her newest idea: a hotel that rehabilitates sinners. At least, he guessed, the ones who wanted to do that. If there were any.

_Clip, clap, clip._

His ears perked as he heard the familiar noise of deer’s hooves behind him in the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, Hatchet could see a red saturated denizen in a pinstripe overcoat. The Radio Demon was back, and watching the news channel in the window of his ransacked station. The ominous buzzing noise of an off-channel radio filled the air; his anger was obviously building.

Hatchet turned around and slithered past the crowd, out into the street. Devil be damned if he were to stick around for the wrath of Alastor. The attack on The Radio Hack had the signature of Vox all over it; televisions strewn with the blood and guts of what was most likely The Radio Demon's previous staff. Those poor sinners, they probably hadn't gotten out in time before the Extermination, and Vox had most likely just made do with what was left from the angels’ attack; a quick and poignant message left behind for his bitter rival.

Hatchet snickered as he heard the skid of tires on the street, and a surly looking owl demon in a fedora sped by. Not many cars were out yet, it was still a bit early after the purge. Doubtless, sinners were still scared shitless of a wayward angel meeting them along their way. Hatchet knew better than that. The trumpet signaling for all units to return heaven bound had trumped three hours ago. He’d been keeping track.

He shook his head fiercely, banishing his thoughts. Hatchet had other things to worry about. He had to get this done quickly, before it was too late. There was someone he needed to inform of the princess' newest scheme.

A small pager beeped in his pocket, and he took it out, examining it.

"There ya'are."

He slithered a few more yards to the nearest alleyway, making sure that he was not seen nor followed. As he looked over his shoulder, he saw a shadow shift, and the teal light of a heavenly being illuminated the space.

"You're late, Hatchet. I was supposed to report back to her ages ago. Thank God she's fond of me."

Hatchet smiled toothily, eyes shining in adoration as his elder brother stood before him. It had been a year since he had last seen him, but he hadn't changed one bit. He cleared his throat and jokingly stood to attention, making a salute. The being before him rolled his eyes and gestured expectantly with his hand as he grimaced. Hatchet smiled. Still the same old Fitch.

"List'n, bruduh, I got summin worth your while."

"Do tell."

The angel leaned against the wall, fiddling with the buttons on his sleeve, then turning towards the draconic demon expectantly, his nose wrinkled in disdain at the carnage that littered the alley. He pinched the bridge of it between his fingers in snobbery.

"She's up tah summin again. Gon' try and get sinners inta the heavens, she is."

His companion lurched in surprise, almost losing his footing, but caught himself. Straightening his vest, he sputtered in annoyance.

"Hatchet, dear brother, you can't be serious. That's ludicrous! She's the daughter of the first of the Fallen! He should have at least taught her that-"

"An' I'm sure he did, Fitch."

Hatchet rubbed his talons together, then scratched his head solemnly.

"Sure is an utter shame, that is. She's dead set on gettin' inta heaven… unfortunate that her bloodline is irrevocably banished."

"Quite."

"Can't blame 'em though, after wot he did."

"Oh, undeniably."

"She didn't get tah choose where she'd prefer tah go, unlike us four."

"Three. You mean three."

"Uh… are you two still...?" Fitch threw Hatchet a poisonous glare, and he caught his words, "Oh, o’ course, right. Three."

The brothers stood in awkward silence, then seemed to remember the reason they were there again. Hatchet looked up, determined to pass on his message.

"It's called the Happy Hotel. She's 'specting denizens tah arrive soon, I'm guessin', since she broadcast it on the 666 News.

Looks like she really thinks it might work this time. She seemed real adamant, almost confident, even. That lil’ miss sure is a stubborn one."

"If I'm guessing right, it'll probably end up as successful as the whole 'ambassador' plan. And look where that got you lot."

Fitch cast a relieved glance at Hatchet, and gave him a slight, sheepish smile.

"I'm glad to see you safe again this year."

"Nothin' can stop me, yah know that. I'm too hot tah handle!"

Emphasizing his point, Hatchet bore a little flame between his hands, tossing it to and fro, then shot it towards a stray hellcat that had happened upon the alleyway. It howled as the ember singed a good portion of its fur, sprinting away as the brothers chuckled silently, one less jovial than the other.

Fitch turned around and crossed his arms, leaning on the wall next to him in melancholy. Hatchet couldn’t see it, but he knew when his brother was upset. He could tell that their time to mingle was now over.

With a heavy sigh, Hatchet sauntered over to his elder brother, throwing his arm around him and giving him a little squeeze and a tight smile. Fitch averted his gaze, but didn’t pull away. They stood together for a moment, watching the Clock Tower as its hands ticked.

“I guess I’ll see yah when I see yah,” Hatchet mumbled, pulling away, “Get outta here, angel.”

“Haha! I’ll let you know. Get thee hence, demon,” Fitch agreed as he took a few steps forward.

Hatchet watched in silence, lighting a cigarette with his finger as Fitch took to the sky, headed toward the clouded planet hovering just above the Pentagram Moon. Although it was stupid, really, for a demon to pray... he prayed for his brother to make it home safely.

\---

Alastor hummed in annoyance as he stepped hastily away from The Radio Hack’s premises, ignoring the graffiti that depicted him as a monstrous heathen. Admittedly, he was a little sorry to see the establishment in such disarray, but it had been fun while it lasted. He now agreed with Vox on one thing: he didn’t need that old place anymore.

He kept a lively pace as he walked down the street of Pentagram City Main, listening to the wails of silly demons who, for some reason, thought it beneficial to care about others. The tears they shed over their fallen family members were pitiful, but unimportant. Eventually, they too would meet the same fate, their spirits being plunged into the darkness of oblivion.

The demon chuckled as his thoughts lingered on the whereabouts of all the exterminated souls. Perhaps one day, this place would bore him enough that he might pursue them swiftly down, but that day was not today.

The princess had been on the picture show, babbling like a child as she tried to emphasize whatever point she had been making before he tuned in. Pathetic, really, but it entertained him to see a member of the royal family squirm unprofessionally in awkward unease.

He had almost gotten bored with the broadcast, and was about to turn around, when something she said caught him, like a fly in honey.

“Look, every single one of you has something good, deep down inside. I know you do!...Maybe I'm not getting through to you.”

He cocked his head curiously, incredulous at the thought. The princess of Hell, insisting that maybe even _he_ had a shred of good left inside his blackened and beaten heart? Insanity. She had been born in Hell probably long before he himself had been born in his life, and long before the history of mankind had begun to be written. She must have seen first hand how horrid and irredeemable these sinners were. Taking that into account, he noted that perhaps she’d seen something he hadn’t. Whatever it was, he needed it. He felt he had seen everything in Hell now, above and below the ground, and if the princess could entertain him with something new, he’d consume it to no end.

His shadow lurched toward the screens hungrily as a spotlight landed upon the princess, illuminating her as she snapped a piano into existence beneath her. She began to sing confidently, enticingly, as she birthed a melody concerning a hotel meant to rehabilitate the damned, building up to her insistent chorus that defied the logic of the place where her family reigned.

Alastor was enthralled, and for the first time in a while, he felt that his smile was genuine. He decided right then and there: this little puppet was going to be his to play with, and no one else would have her until he had drained each drop of that pure innocence and happiness from her still beating heart.

He watched gleefully as she was ridiculed and taunted, up until the point where she set one of the reporters on fire and began to wrestle the other with pure ire written across her cute little face. Enticing, this little belle. 

Placing the recent memory aside, he strode confidently towards his last errand of the day. He had promised Mimzy that he would join her for a drink, and a gentleman was always punctual.

Aside from the wailing family of demons he had passed by in the street, there was not much hustle and bustle on this side of Pentagram city. It hadn’t been long since the angels had taken flight, leaving the cannibals to feast and the dead to rot. Alastor was a man of finer taste, he preferred to hunt his prey.

It wasn’t long before he arrived at Mimzy’s business, a little speakeasy club that he often frequented, thanks to it being the only place that truly, he felt, encapsulated the greatness of the 1920s. Ah, but it reminded him of old times long forgotten. The fact that Mimzy was there only further perpetuated his reminiscence. He wondered what it was she wanted from him this time. Well, actually, it was obvious to him what she wanted, but he preferred to avoid thinking on and participating in those things. Perhaps if she had some privy information, or something worth trading, he’d concede to it. She knew him all too well, unfortunately. Perhaps this loose end would one day be of no use to him anymore; he just had to be patient and take advantage of her gossip while the opportunity still presented itself. When her well of information dried up, then he’d take care of her.

“Allykins!!!”

A gleeful and familiar voice squealed as a young woman barrelled into his chest, snatching him out of his murderous imaginations. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance as he plucked Mimzy’s arms from around his waist and spun her around in a little performative spin, dipping her gracefully on his knee. While she was still useful, he had to pretend as if nothing had changed in the last 95 years.

“Mimzy, my darling, what a pleasure it is to see you! You look lovely, my dear,” Alastor flattered as he looked into her eyes, so obviously filled with adoration. Disgusting. He took her hand and kissed her knuckle lightly as she giggled.

“Thank you ever so kindly for the invitation to dine with you. It had been so long since we had last crossed paths! I was beginning to miss you,” he lied smoothly.

“Oh, Alastor, the pleasure is all mine! I also missed you dearly,” she sighed with happiness as she held her face softly in her hands, and then, winking, said, “but quickly, come with me! I have so much I need to tell you! So much has happened since I last saw you, my love!”

Love. What a stupid, unrealistic sentiment.

“But of course, Mimzy! Please, lead the way, I’ll be right behind you.”

As Mimzy skipped past a bar titled “The Drinking Place” and a little side room labelled “Babes,” Alastor stalked quietly, pensively. He was thankful that the twittering mockingbird had gotten straight to the point this time; too often would she try to get him drunk before telling him what she knew he wanted to hear. Although he occasionally enjoyed drinking himself senseless, he was smarter than that when it came to Mimzy. Nobody ever fooled Alastor twice.

Mimzy came to a stop at a small room hidden off in a hall to the side of the dancefloor, and her smile fell for a moment as she hurriedly glanced around, making sure they were alone. Alastor couldn’t hide the radio audience’s pre-recorded laughter as it emanated from his person. After so many years, this weak little woman before him should have known better than to hide her smile.

“Oh, hush, you!” she scolded him as she took a key from her bosom and unlocked the door, grabbing his arm and tugging him in after her.

Illuminated before them was a cozy little room. A small table was set in front of them with a lit candle and a small supper, complete with wine, and in the background a fireplace burned brightly. The only thing that put Alastor off was a king-sized bed waiting ominously in the corner. He resigned himself to the idea that he might have to use it to gain the information he sought.

They sat themselves at either end of the table, and after a quick grace at Mimzy’s bequest, they dined. How silly that she though God still heard her, Alastor mused. The room was quiet, all except the light clinks of the silverware upon their platters and the pouring of wine. This wouldn’t do.

“Mimzy,” Alastor began as he swirled his cabernet sauvignon, “This is indeed a lovely supper you’ve planned.”

Mimzy finished chewing her steak, then dabbed her lips daintily with a napkin. She fluttered her eyelashes flirtatiously, and leaned slightly onto the table, displaying her assets a little too obviously for Alastor’s tastes. Her etiquette was atrocious.

“Oh Allykins, I’ve prepared only the best for you!” she twirled her finger in one of the locks of her hair, looking coily away.

“I have no doubt, my dear Miss Hanigan,” he replied, “and, might I add, you look positively ravishing.”

Mimzy giggled as she left her empty plate and sashayed over to the bed. She looked expectantly over her shoulder, then sat herself softly down. Examining her nails, her voice took a deeper, more serious tone.

“You know I wouldn’t invite you here so obviously without something more worth your while. Why don’t you ankle on over here, bimbo?” she patted the bed expectantly.

Having finished his meal and wine, Alastor saw no reason as to decline her. He stood up gracefully, and meandered over to her, sitting next to her as she leaned her head upon his shoulder. The game had begun.

“Oh honey,” Mimzy lolled as she looked up at him with forlorn eyes, “It’s been so lonely since you’ve last visited me… I was beginning to think you had forgotten I existed…”

“Far from it, my dear,” Alastor’s voice was tender and warm, and the buzzing of his radio essence died down to a sullen hum. He moved his hand slowly, and gently cupped her own in his palm.

“Oh Alastor… would you please engage me in a little whoopee?”

“Dear Mimzy, you know that’s not what I came here for,” he held her hand in his, feeling her pulse begin to quicken as he circled her knuckles with his thumb.

“I- I know…” she looked down sorrowfully as she thought of her next words. Her eyes suddenly lit up mischievously, and Alastor knew he had her. She turned to him in quiet desperation, what she wanted written clearly over her face.

“I’ll offer you a trade, Alastor. Just the other day, Frederick von Eldritch was at the bar, drowning himself in giggle water. Or more…” she pulled her hand away from Alastor’s grasp and threw it delicately over his shoulder, “ _I_ was drowning him in giggle water.”

She brought her other hand up to his bowtie, and he looked down, inclining himself towards her as she fiddled with its knot. As it came undone, she looked up at him. He hoped his unchanging smile was, at least, a little unnerving to her.

“Do tell,” he growled, plucking the delicate fabric from around his neck, and discarding it on the floor. He loomed over her dominantly, bringing his hand to her waist and trailing it slowly down her leg. To his utter annoyance, she seemed to take that as an invitation, and she trailed her hands down the lapels of his jacket, unbuttoning his overcoat slowly. 

He hated affection, such a performative lie. He didn’t need anyone to hold him as she so desperately wanted him to hold her. He saw all these things as a bargaining chip, nothing more. Just another way people could take advantage of you if you weren’t intelligent. It wasn't his fault that Mimzy fell into that category.

“Well…” Mimzy’s voice stifled into a whisper as she finished with the last button, trailing her hands down his shoulders and pressing them to his chest.

“That sorry egg was ossified to the point of babbling,” she pulled herself up to Alastor’s ear, and whispered seductively, “and he knew the whereabouts of Queen Lillith…”

“Did he now.”

“He did…” she kicked off her shoes and lifted her legs to the bed, leaning even more into Alastor as she brought her arms around him, pulling him closer to her as he shed his overcoat onto the floor.

“The whereabouts of the queen,” he breathed heavily as he allowed himself to lean back upon the pillows, Mimzy in tow, “would indeed be a worthy trade…”

He met Mimzy’s eyes, focusing on channeling his charisma as he rolled over and pushed her underneath him into the comforter, bringing his knee between her own. Fondling one of the sequins on her dress, he slowly trailed his face down her neck, allowing himself to rest there as his hot breath stimulated her.

“Al- Alastor… Alastor, please-”

“Do you want this in trade?” he asked sultrily as his hand trailed to the zipper on the small of her back.

“I- I do…”

“Then it’s a deal? You tell me the whereabouts of Queen Lillith, and I’ll participate in whoopee with you.”

“Y-yes… please… please, Alastor…”

His hand trailed the zipper of her dress down tantalizingly as he brought his face up to look at her again.

“Then I shall seal this deal with a kiss, my dear. You know the consequences if your information is inadequate.”

He brought his lips to hers, closing his eyes as a blinding, radiant burst of harlequin light engulfed them for a heavy moment of time. When the light had faded, he set to work. He had to fulfill his end of the deal; the promised information was essential to bring his plans to fruition. 

Their love session was quick, and Alastor, although prideful in his thoroughness, hardly paid it any mind. Upon finishing, they lay there in each other's arms, breathing softly together, their heartbeats racing in their chests.

Alastor decided he’d stay there for a moment. He was vulnerable, yes, but this kind of vulnerability was momentarily bearable, at least with Mimzy. Despite how he loathed affections of this manner, and despite his assurance that he required no touch to satisfy his needs… it was… nice. It was nice to feel the warmth of another body against his every once in a while. Additionally, although under normal circumstances he would choose not to share this feeling, at least sharing it with Mimzy was not as bad. They knew each other. They were friends. A long time ago, he had allowed his since expired affection for her to rule him.

On that thought, he decided his end of the deal had been met.

“Mimzy…” he murmured into her neck, placing his lips menacingly over her jugular, “Fulfill your end of the bargain.”

He could feel Mimzy’s arms bristle with goosebumps as he hovered his body over hers, caging her between his arms and legs. He snickered inwardly. This was the exact reason why people like her ended up killed; giving themselves in to vulnerabilities, allowing themselves to be ruled by their own flesh. Alastor knew better than to let that control him. His victims, however, never did.

He was brought from his thoughts by the quiet, fearful whimpering of the woman beneath him.

“Allykins… please… can’t you hold me close again? Just for a few more minutes?”

He grinned patronizingly at his prisoner, his gaze mocking mercy and his irises flashing a bright vermillion red. The menacing hum of a tuned out radio lingered in the air as he closed his body tighter around her own.

“I gave you a few minutes to cuddle, as an added gift,” he reasoned, bringing his face up to meet hers again so she could see his eyes shift into radio dials, “My end of the deal has been paid to you quite handsomely.”

“P-please…” she whispered, “for old time’s sake, please just hold me close again…”

Alastor’s eyes faded back to normal, and he pulled his face away from hers slowly, cocking his head and looking toward the ceiling in thought. He brought his gaze to hers again.

“NO. Fulfill your end of our deal, or reap the consequences.”

His eyes immediately shifted back to radio dials, his hair bristling as his claws lengthened and his features sharpened. His smile seemed almost a grimace as he tilted his head, relishing in her frightened stare as the volume of his radio essence buzzed loudly, a broadcast of War of the Worlds playing ominously as he brought his face to her jugular again, this time, his breathing hot and ragged, and his teeth grazing her sharply. A small bud of blood bubbled from the scratch, and he licked it hungrily.

“Wait! Alastor, please, wait, I’ll tell you!!! Don’t-!”

Alastor straightened up, his voice echoing those of many.

“I’m waiting, Mimzy.”

He relished in the sight of her tears, which burst forth in fear and desperation. She was no longer desperate for his touch, she was pleading desperately for her life. He loved having that power over her, he loved the fear and confusion in each of his victims' eyes as he went from cavalier to murderous. Mimzy pushed against him, trying to break free, but he simply grabbed her wrists and forced her to look back up at his horrid state. She sputtered pitifully, and he could feel her pulses pounding fervently under his hand.

“Queen Lillith’s camp is on the eastern side of the fifth circle of Hell!!! Please, Alastor! Stop!!!”

Alastor quickly returned his expression to one of acceptance and false softness, staring down at a sobbing Mimzy. Her eyes were shut tight, her lips pursed and her jaw clenched as she trembled underneath him. Perfect. This was exactly how he liked her.

“Now, Mimzy, my dear,” he whispered gently, lifting his hand to caress her cheek, “was that truly so hard?”

He lifted himself up from off of her, releasing her wrists, and she covered herself with her hands, turning her back to him as she struggled to hide under the comforter. He chuckled quietly, menacingly, as he heard her sniffle in the dark.

He snapped his fingers, immediately dressing himself again, and stood up to his full height. He noticed his antlers had increased in length again, and sighed, guessing it couldn’t be helped.

“Did he say why she was stationed there?”

“...yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Lillith and her army were weakened a few weeks ago. I don’t know how. But von Eldritch said that he heard King Lucifer talking to her on one of those new fangled telephone things. She’s currently gathering more troops for battle.”

“Hm.”

Alastor turned again to face the woman he had only moments ago shared intimacy with. He didn’t feel sorrowful, per say, for having startled her in such a manner, since it did the trick, but he did feel like he had crossed a boundary that perhaps he shouldn’t have crossed. He felt obliged to rectify it; if he didn’t, perhaps she would stop gathering information as vital as this for him, and then he'd have no choice but to kill her. He sat upon the bed again, leaning over to where Mimzy lay.

“Mimzy…”

She winced at his voice.

“My darling…”

He placed his hands on where he knew her shoulder was. She grew tense under his touch.

“Please turn around, Mimzy. You know I would never harm you.”

He trailed his hand up to her head, weaving his fingers into her silky blonde bob. She shivered at his touch, but seemed to relax as he massaged her scalp.

“Come here. Speak to me.”

She sat up sullenly, glancing dolefully at him from hooded eyelids. He released his hand from her hair, and beckoned her over to him. She crawled obediently to him and sat quietly in his lap as he closed his arms around her in a delicate, yet, commanding embrace.

“Tell me, since I’m giving you what you asked for. Where is this so-called ‘Happy Hotel’?”

\---

I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this first chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've never written fanfiction for a character truly as manipulative and sadistic as Alastor before, and I really hope I did so well! I love all the characters so much, and am excited to tell the stories I have planned for all of them.

Thank you for sticking around! You can find me on Twitter at https://twitter.com/MerlinIsland.

Please rest assured: there are a lot of things I will be putting into this story, and that includes many of the popular ships within the fandom. Alastor is kind of a wild card when it comes to relationships, and I'm very interested in exploring that, being aroace myself. Plus, there's a few canon ships from the pilot that I just love, and want to express my love for. 

Stay tuned for more updates! This story is going to be something really special.


	2. To Break a Heart: Chapter 2: The Fiery Pit of Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which failure is not an option.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Magne family limousine was idling on the corner of the decimated street. Charlie had left it there in the care of Razzle, Dazzle, and Vaggie as she jumped purposefully from the car, intent on retrieving Angel Dust from the rubble of his previous brawl. It was taking her a little longer than expected, and Vaggie could see her speaking quickly and agitatedly, pointing to the car as Angel Dust rolled his eyes, groaning begrudgingly as Sir Pentious wrestled Cherri Bomb in the background.

Vaggie liked to think of herself as patient, under normal circumstances. But a year in Hell had been exactly that, a year in Hell, and she no longer wanted to beat around the bush. Demons obviously only really understood someone and took them seriously if they were being yelled at, or if they could see the anger boiling in one’s eyes. She despised it. It was exhausting.

It hadn’t been all that bad up until a few months ago. She had been staying with Charlie in the Magne mansion as the princess had put together her most recent plan: rehabilitating sinners and redeeming them into Heaven.

Vaggie was unsure if it would even work back then, and she was becoming less sure by the day. One thing was never going to change though; her girlfriend was stubborn and optimistic to a fault, and would do anything to make sure she succeeded. Vaggie had opted into thinking that perhaps just Charlie’s sheer force of will would send a sinner straight into Heaven.

It was a long shot, but Vaggie wanted to be there to see it happen, if it ever did happen. And if it didn’t? She would be there to catch Charlie when she fell, and support her through the pain of what almost everyone deemed her failures.

Failure. Such a dumb concept. If one never stopped trying, could one really say that they failed? Picking oneself up off the ground after tripping, and continuing to run the metaphorical marathon of life (or rather, afterlife), seemed a pretty noble thing to Vaggie. Why couldn’t anyone else see it the same way?

She remembered the day that Charlie decided to tell Lucifer about her plan for the hotel. Vaggie knew it was going to be risky, but she could have never prepared for how brutally Charlie’s own father had shut her down.

Sure, he was the king of Hell, but… yeesh.

\---

_Charlie had asked Vaggie to keep watch and send any of the mansion staff away if they approached her father’s office._

_“I need to get him alone, with no distractions. If anyone so much as talks to him, he’ll immediately change the subject, and then he’ll NEVER listen to me!” Charlie had pouted, making her adorable puppy eyes turn Vaggie into a melting puddle of adoration and acceptance._

_“Fine, fine! Okay!” Vaggie agreed, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose, “I’ll keep watch. But… Charlie…”_

_Vaggie had grabbed the princess’ arms, turning her softly to face her. She leaned her head into her shoulder, closing her eyes and focusing on the warmth that emanated from her love._

_“Please,” she continued, “Be careful. Don’t mince your words or go off on a tangent! I…” she bit her lip, “I know I’ve only known you for a little bit, and I’ve known your dad for even less time but… I’m still scared. He’s the original Fallen. The original Sinner. What if he does something to stop your idea, or you even? What if he denies you again? I don’t want you to get hurt, Charlie…”_

_Charlie had sighed in resignation, bringing her hand to Vaggie’s face and tenderly pushing a strand of her silky gray hair behind her ear. Vaggie looked up only to see the princess smiling down at her, piety written across her face as she regarded her girlfriend._

_“Vaggie, don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”_

_With that, she had pulled away and knocked on the door leading into her father’s study, throwing a confidently sheepish thumbs up and a wink in Vaggie’s direction._

_“Come in,” the muffled voice commanded._

_Vaggie remembered how her skin bristled at the sound of his voice. Although he sounded regal and gentle, there lingered a slightly venomous tone underneath each syllable, and it reminded her of a cobra getting ready to strike. Maybe it was just because she wasn’t used to him yet, but… she doubted that was the reason. Vaggie was well versed in Catholicism, and since Heaven, Hell, and the devil had all turned out to actually be real, she couldn’t shake the feeling that everything she had read about him just had to be true as well. It didn’t matter how many pop culture references he made in an attempt to make her feel more at home here in Hell and among the Magne family. It didn’t matter how kind he acted, or how he had graciously accepted her presence in the mansion despite everything._

_She just knew it. She could feel it. Lucifer, the light bringer, had a heart of darkness._

_Suddenly, two snakes slithered under the door and up to the handles, interweaving themselves into an eternity symbol and hardening into brass. Vaggie’s heart dropped. Charlie was locked in a room with the most dangerous person in Hell. He had once been an angel. He could stop the heart of any demon whenever he saw it fit. He could-_

_Vaggie had shaken her head, banishing all the what-ifs from her anxious mind. Sure, he was the king of Hell, and sure, he was probably the most evil thing in the known universe… but surely he loved his daughter and would never do anything to hurt her! Even though Vaggie had never seen him lock the doors to ensure a private conversation with Charlie…_

_She figured it wouldn’t be too bad to listen in, after all, she had already heard the plan before._

_Vaggie put her ear to the door, no longer worried about the passing mansion staff giving her disdainful glares and scoffing looks. She needed to know Charlie would be okay. That was all that mattered. If she needed to, she would break through that study door, abandoning her own safety for that of her princess. She loved her too much, she would not stand to ever have her suffer if Vaggie could avoid it._

_“...and it would help with the overpopulation-”_

_“Stop."_

_Vaggie’s blood had turned ice cold, and she brought her face even closer to the door, peeking through the crack in the middle where the doors met. The snakes hissed indignantly, but did not stop her._

_The scene before her was tense, a feeling of battle lingering ominously in the air. The king had his back to Charlie, but she could see that his gaze was averted towards the fireplace. Charlie was standing tall, her hand resting on a wooden chair near his desk. Her knuckles were clenched tightly, and the pinkish tint that usually blushed her skin was gone._

_Lucifer raised his head, bringing his hand to his hat. In a fluid motion, he gently placed it on his desk. He smoothed his golden hair back, inhaling slowly, then resumed his regal posture, and Vaggie could feel the room freeze._

_"You just don’t get it, do you, my dear Charlotte?_

_“This… plan. That you’ve concocted?” he continued, “It will never work. Not for all of conceivable time.”_

_Vaggie heard the sturdy footsteps of the confident king as he slowly walked to where Charlie stood. Charlie appeared to be calm and collected. He brought his hand to her face and stroked her rosy cheek gently with his thumb._

_“Charlotte, I’ve allowed this behavior from you time and time again. Helping people? Encouraging them, even in the depths of Hell?”_

_He sighed, looking down at the floor._

_“Charlie,” Lucifer’s voice became soft and sorrowful, “Would you truly leave me all alone down here?_

_“Your scheme, gaining access into Heaven… why would you ever think that I would approve of an ambition so insulting to myself? Surely you realize that within all aspects of this plan, you have excluded me and my wellbeing."_

_Lucifer looked heartbroken. Vaggie was confused at this reaction. He looked so… sad. But then, his demeanor shifted, and his gaze hardened into a glare._

_"I say this because it seems as though this plan is only available to those who were born here, the sins of their parents irrelevant to their own choices, or upon the earth, where they simply ran out of time to repent before meeting their demise… While your mother and yourself might meet the criteria, I clearly would not. You know this.”_

_He turned his back to Charlie again._

_“If that doesn't matter to you, then by all means. Proceed. Fail. And do not come crying to me once you see how truly wrong you were. If you much rather be without me in Heaven, then I much rather you leave my presence and never return."_

_The silence was deafening._

_"I'm finished with you," Lucifer whispered dangerously, "Leave."_

_Shaking her head in horror, Vaggie had hoped to high Heaven that Charlie would listen to him. Unfortunately, she knew her better than that. Charlie never listened to anyone._

_"Father, I-,” as Lucifer tensed, Charlie bit down on her words, releasing her hand from the chair, then clenching it into a fist, “I mean… your Majesty."_

_Vaggie gasped quietly as she heard Charlie continue, against all better judgement._

_"Please understand. I mean no disrespect in explaining my plan to redeem the damned. I know your ire against Heaven. I understand your feelings regarding your banishment from Heaven. But…”_

_Charlie took a deep breath, and Vaggie witnessed her horns slowly raise themselves from her beautiful, flowing hair._

_"Understand that I am angry too._

_"I am LIVID at the state of our nation. I am APPALLED that there has been no effort on your part to qualm the attacks upon our own people.”_

_Lucifer turned sharply around, his eyes red and accusatory as he regarded his defiant daughter. Vaggie couldn’t see Charlie’s reaction, but she thought she heard her voice cracking with emotion as she continued, throwing her arms out to emphasize her point._

_“You lament that redeeming these souls would leave you alone in Hell. Presently, you are surrounded by those who likewise are damned, and you are not alone, but I see no pity from you as they burn._

_"These people are sinners, and of course I understand that. Of COURSE I know that they probably very rightly deserve to suffer. But…”_

_She inhaled, then calmly dispelled the breath she had been holding._

_“If you won’t send them to a place where they will be finally happy and at peace, and if you won’t protect them by trying to resolve the Extermination issue, then what choice do I have, as the princess, except to step in and rectify the wrongs that I see? They don’t deserve to suffer anymore than they already have!!!”_

_“ENOUGH!”_

_Lucifer brought his fist finitely upon his desk, and it splintered and caved as he immediately loomed over Charlie. He grabbed her chin roughly with his hand, forcing her to look up at his shifting form. Feathery black wings sprouted from his back, and his own horns sprung forth and sharpened as he held her there. A broken halo shimmered around his head as the princess cowered under his glare and radiant light, her red eyes beginning to brim over with tears._

_When he saw her tears, the king’s expression changed for just a second. He looked hurt, betrayed, and angry simultaneously, his eyes flashing back to yellow. But as the tears continued to fall, he seemed to disregard her again, closing his eyes in frustration before returning his burning grimace._

_“You cannot speak to me in this manner, child. Not only am I your father, but I am your king.”_

_He dropped her chin from his hand, and Charlie fell to her knees, her arm covering her face as she tried to hide her tears and protect herself from his broken, false, heavenly light. His skin flashed hundreds of burning eyes for a moment as he delivered an ultimatum._

_“If you pursue this plan, I do not want to see you. I do not want to help you. I will not help you. If you pursue this plan, consider yourself a separate party from me, and know that I view you as a failure of a demon in my sight.”_

_He turned his back to her, and his voice returned to a whisper. Vaggie could have sworn that it, too, was cracking from the emotions he felt, and if she could have seen his visage, she wouldn’t be surprised if he also was beginning to cry. But this was the devil. Surely he wasn’t capable of feeling regret or shame?_

_“Charlotte, you… you have complete access to our forgotten summer palace at the edge of Pentagram city. Do with it what you will. I won’t stop you.”_

_He hesitated, and the room grew heavier with expectation of his last words. Charlie was still crying silently on the ground, refusing to look up at him._

_“We will see if this even works. If it doesn’t, you are a failure. If it does, you are a failure.”_

_He looked down toward his hat, which was now lying crumpled on the granite floor. He bent over and picked it up, but it remained there in his hands as his wings and horns dematerialized. The princess inclined her head toward him as his luminescence died down, giving way to the darkness of the room and the flickering of the fire in the background._

_“You are dismissed.”_

_Charlie had stood, rising up to her full height, maintaining a stature of grace. She did not speak, nor did she make any sound, as she gave a solemn curtsey in her father’s direction, then turned to face the doors of the study. As she walked steadily away, the snakes that had locked out all access slithered back to their master. Vaggie returned hastily to her post; the last thing she wanted was to be within the king’s consideration. She had never seen something as terrifying as how he had handled the conversation, and as Charlie rounded the corner of the hall leading to his study, she jumped in surprise. Charlie’s eyes were still red, although her horns had disappeared. Her tear-stained expression had returned to her usual cheery smile, and she curled her hand around Vaggie’s, pulling her arm gently as she walked forward._

_“Come on Vaggie. We have work to do.”_

\---

Vaggie sighed, disheartened at the memory. Charlie had never explained to her what had happened in the study, nor had she mentioned anything about the conversation she had had with Lucifer. She assumed that maybe, just maybe, her girlfriend knew that Vaggie had been listening intently at the door. Still, it saddened her that Charlie didn’t want to address it. Was she simply… done with it? Didn’t she want to talk about it? Or did she view Vaggie as one who wouldn’t understand or comprehend the situation, the princess and her father being entities older than time itself?

Vaggie massaged her temples in frustration. She wished that Charlie would try to understand that maybe, just maybe, her mortal companion might have experience in overcoming the fears and pain of rejection. Vaggie felt lost in the eternities of the princess’ life. Would Charlie move on easily if her girlfriend ever was hurt or killed by an Exterminator, having seen it happen so many times before, and having experienced similar pain probably for eons?

Vaggie violently shook her head, trying to banish her worries and anxiety. She hated it down here. In life, she had always been taught that the afterlife would erase her pain if she lived a proper and selfless life. What had she done wrong? Why was she still suffering the pain of a claustrophobic brain, pressing the issues of not only her previous life, but the issues of her afterlife so evidently into her mentality?

She jumped as the limousine door swung open, and the lanky porn star they had tasked themselves with rectifying the actions of pushed through into the passenger seat on the opposite end. Charlie followed in after him, smiling apologetically as she explained why it had taken them so long, sorry for leaving Vaggie alone.

Vaggie gave her a curt smile, helping the princess to her seat, then turning her gaze swiftly to Angel Dust, who began playing with the switch of the window that separated the passengers from the drivers. She could feel the indignant anger boiling within her chest, poisoning her demeanor in a grimace as she furiously regarded the spider demon before her. He obviously didn’t care that he had most likely set back the progress of the hotel almost to square one again, and she loathed him for it. She hated that he had no respect for his realm’s own princess.

She couldn’t fight her urge to berate him and his actions, and as she began, her thoughts revolved around a fret both ominous and hopeless. Tonight was going to be a long night.

\---

It hadn't been long at all since his encounter with Mimzy, but Alastor had already moved his thoughts onto his immediate needs. What was most important was finding that hotel, getting the princess to trust him, and getting her to seal a deal.

He felt optimistic; princess Charlotte reminded him all too much of the naïve women he would often trick into selling their souls to him, trading his promises and “help” for their indentured servitude. Obviously a young girl like her, having experienced a fiasco like the one he witnessed on the picture show, would be within the pits of embarrassment and shame right about now. Easy to take advantage of, and what a prize for the one who took that advantage! All he had to do was word the deal carefully; if he was open ended and generic enough, the whole kingdom would be at his fingertips to command. How he craved it. For 82 years, he had racked his brain and fought for ways to dismantle King Lucifer. The royal obviously didn’t care about actually punishing all those that arrived in Hell, evidenced by the fact that everything, aside from being absolutely demonic, lewd, and sinful, seemed to Alastor to simply be the same as living in an alive society above. Everyone worked, there was an economy, there were businesses, there were families and friends, lives and deaths… everything. It was all just simply in a different realm of existence than where they had been before; there had been no true, notable change in the suffering. It seemed the same as what he normally witnessed when he was actually alive, aside from the yearly extermination, which was a problem he thought better to postpone thinking about until it directly affected him, or until he could actually do something about it. 

Hell was too orderly, and Alastor wanted to fix it. The Hell he had always heard of was supposed to be a burning, freezing place with chaos ruling it, no rules, no society, no love. Just wailing and gnashing of teeth, punishment for sins long ago committed, suffering of the sincerest and most painful kind. True, undeniable justice. 

According to Alastor, Hell lacked a true leader. While Lilith battled on the front lines of Hell’s army, dedicated to protecting her people and home against the forces of Heaven and other parties, the only intelligent ruler was out of the picture; who knew when, or if, she’d ever return. The princess was a failure, this much was obvious, but Alastor could see the truth of the matter- the little apple had not fallen far from the tree. Her failure was obviously inherited from her father. Although he thought the Bible really held no importance anymore, he knew that within its pages was told the story of the Fall of Lucifer. If being the first to disappoint God to the point where you were banished from His presence wasn’t a failure, Alastor didn’t know what was. 

Furthermore, as an inept and failed ruler, he had to be disposed of, and Alastor wanted to be the man to do it. It would be the most poetically ironic murder: the father of sin cut down and usurped by one so dedicated to his temptations.

Chuckling at his genius, Alastor strolled up to the premises, marveling at the Happy Hotel’s grandeur. What the building lacked in cleanliness (which he opted to ignore, considering that the Exterminating Angels had probably ransacked it earlier that morning) it more than made up for in its chaotic décor. It pleased Alastor to find that the ship protruding from the side was none other than the sunken Titanic. He remembered his childhood, and how excited the world had been to finally release the “unsinkable ship” upon the waters toward the Atlantic Ocean. What a shame it had been when it had fallen to the iceberg, killing nearly two thousand people. How it had entertained him to sneak a read from the papers he was advertising on the streets, then spread the news around town amongst his little peers. Those were simpler times.

Suddenly, a door creaked open, startling him into his shadow. He warped to the side of the building, cautiously peeking out behind the wall to see who had disturbed his thoughts and the calm of the evening.

It was the princess.

The light from the pentagram moon hit her features delicately as she held the small cellular device up to her ear. Alastor cocked his head slightly in order to listen more intently as the receiving end of the call beeped obnoxiously, then faded into silence. He almost felt sorry for the girl as he watched her lips quiver in dissatisfaction and sorrow.

His ears perked up as he heard her begin to speak, voice trembling quietly.

“Hey, Mom. I know I keep calling and you must be busy... Really busy... But, um, the interview didn't go well, and... I don't know if I'm ever going to make a difference.”

Precious. Alastor had to stifle the laughter of his radio audience as the princess wiped tears from her eyes, sniffling. This was going to be too easy. The poor, pathetic little thing was so evidently desperate for help and validation. He watched her pace as she continued.

“I don't know what I'm doing. I could really use some advice, Mom. I... I think Dad was right about me... Ahah, oof, eh, anyway... I'll stop talking before this gets long. Love you, bye…”

With that, the princess brought a hand to her face as she pushed through the entrance of the hotel door, and Alastor heard a muffled thud. Doubtless, she was sulking on the other end.

The Radio Demon’s smile curled menacingly. If he had been a better man, perhaps he would feel a semblance of sympathy or pity for the poor princess. This, however, was Hell. If she didn’t understand by now that she couldn’t count on anyone, that was her problem, and of course he wouldn’t rest until he had taken advantage of it. It wasn’t his fault she was so unbearably naïve.

Alastor meandered up to the ornate door, and was pleased to see he had been correct in his assumption. The shadow of the princess could be seen quite evidently in the stained glass; she would have no choice but to answer.

Alastor hummed as he knocked on the door, rhythmically pounding to the song he was purring. He wondered if the princess would recognize it, herself being likewise musically inclined.

_Shave and a haircut, two bits!_

Pleased by his wit, the Radio Demon chuckled silently. Her musical number had needed a fitting ending, as it had been left hanging in the air as she was ridiculed. The little tune he had knocked was well known to be an ending melody, often used to denote the comedy of theatrical acts. This was undoubtedly a proper place to use it, especially considering the hilarity of her situation.

A few seconds passed, and the princess slowly, cautiously opened the door. Elated, Alastor began his introduction.

“He-”

The door slammed in his face. Then opened again, and he could see the princess’ satisfying look of fear and incredulousness.

“-llo!”

She slammed the door again, and he could hear her ramble anxiously behind it, running down the hall, and then returning in a nervous haste. Alastor had expected her to be a little surprised by his sudden visit (he was aware that even the royals knew who he was, and it tickled him to his core), but he hadn’t expected such a rude… greeting? No, he had been the only one who had extended a salutation. He marveled at the rudeness with which he was met, until the door opened again. The princess stood hesitantly before him, trying her best to appear regal. Oh darling, it was too late for that.

“May I speak now?” Alastor ventured sarcastically, raising his finger in the air, not permitting his gaze to leave her own. He couldn’t help but be a little contemptuous at her for making him wait, and not even extending him a greeting. Then again, what else could he expert from one of her kind?

The princess sized herself up before him.

“You may…” she conceded.

That was all Alastor needed to hear.

He immediately extended his hand, hoping she would take it and accidentally seal herself into a deal. As he spoke, she regarded it in awe, hand slightly raised, but not meeting his to greet him.  
Perhaps it was not bad manners. Perhaps natural born demons didn’t know the importance of a proper greeting. It didn’t matter, either way. She had already ruined her own first impression.

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart! Quite a pleasure!”

As he introduced himself, he rescinded his hand, deciding that her opening the hotel door was all the invitation he needed to cross the threshold. Grabbing her arm, he pulled himself into the hotel as he spoke quickly in an attempt to distract her from the fact she had allowed him access inside. He still needed to be careful. Although she was rather daft, she was still a royal, and her power probably outweighed his own immensely.

“Excuse my sudden visit, but I saw your fiasco on a picture show, and I just couldn't resist! What a performance! Why, I haven't been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929! Hahahahaha, sooo many orphans…”

Suddenly, an angelic harpoon was pointed at his throat. Alastor was startled. If he had taken one more step further, he would have been skewered. The unfamiliar feeling of surprise kindled his anger as he peered down the weapon at his newest enemy: a small, fragile woman with gray skin, coral and yellow eyes, and a long mop of straight, silky hair. He immediately hated her. He could tell a smart individual when he saw one, and unfortunately, she fit that category. He made a mental note. The further away from the princess this woman was, the better. He didn’t need some sorry, barely dressed, violent wench interfering with his plans by lending a voice of reason to the princess. She was unexpected, unsolicited, but worst of all, she was frowning. 

And that meant she was weak.

He barely listened as she threatened him with vulgar, unimportant words.

“Stop right there! Cabrón hijo de perra, I know your game, and I'm not gonna let you hurt anyone here, you pompous cheesy talk show shitlord!”

Alastor was amused by her incessant aggression, but also insulted. Although he wasn’t fluent in languages other than his native tongue, and had heard many things said about him, this was where he drew the line. He understood enough passing Spanish to understand that, in an attempt to offend him and ward him off, she had insulted his mother. That wouldn’t do.

He placed a steady finger on the point of the weapon, maintaining eye contact as he threatened her in return.

“Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here…” he began, shifting his eyes slowly into radio dials as he widened his smile and saturated the air around them with static, “ I would've done so already!”

Of course, he meant presently. If she continued to stand in his way, he’d bide his time and strike when trust had been solidified between him and Charlie, and when there were more demons to suspect residing in the hotel. He’d make it look like an accident, then be there to coddle the princess as she cried over her slain companion. It would be as easy as squishing a bug beneath his hand. Perhaps, even if she remained out of his way, he would kill her. He would take that harpoon and skewer her just as she had threatened to do to him, and then…

He shook his head violently, dispelling his obviously murderous intent. The princess had walked around him, and was standing just behind the weak woman. He had to maintain a level of decorum and class if he wanted any chance at making this work.

The minutes that followed were filled by the princess’ inquisitive nature and a string of truths downplaying his intentions and his will to help. It was all too easy to ensnare the princess in his fast paced offering, and as her defensive attitude waivered, he distracted her with friendly touches. The weak woman only got in the way once, and he quickly pushed her out of the princess’ vision. Charlie began to drop hints that she was viewing him as rather benign, despite the setting, which only increased his false friendly attitude. The world was a stage, and he had to perform according to her expectations if he was to succeed. Eventually, she asked him what he thought of her idea to redeem the damned. She looked hopefully around, finally meeting his eyes with a question.

“So, does this mean you think it's possible to rehabilitate a demon?”

A stupid inquiry. Hadn’t she been paying attention? Well, he supposed he shouldn’t expect any different from the foolish daughter of an equally useless monarch, and much less from a girl who disregarded the polite action of extending a greeting and officially introducing herself.

“Hahahahaha!” he guffawed, holding his hand up to stop the progression of her question, “Of course not! That's wacky nonsense! Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! No no no no, I don't think there's anything left that could save such loathsome sinners!” he pointedly glanced to where the other two demons were sitting quietly, “The chance given was the life they lived before, the punishment is this!”

He gestured above him, at the entirety of Hell. Caught up in his answer and euphoria at negating the princess’ hopes and dreams, he let slip an incriminating, final remark.

“There is no undoing what is done!”

Catching himself as he realized what he was saying, he widened his eyes, listening as the girl approached him. No undoing what was done… how unfortunately true it had ultimately proven. Even for himself. He smiled menacingly at the small demon behind him as she continued to question him. This was beginning to get annoying, couldn’t they simply shake on it already?

“So then, why do you wanna help me if you don't believe in my cause?”

He approached her, spinning her like a top as he answered.

“Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself! I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment, only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure!”

“Riiight…” she ventured, less enthusiastically as she removed his hand from her arm. He despised that. Only he could decide if he wanted to be touched.

Alastor smiled, lowering his arm to her waist defiantly, controllingly, as he pulled her further into the hotel lobby, chattering of his abilities and plans to improve the hotel. He was almost there, almost at the point where he would extend the deal, when the weak woman pulled Charlie away. They walked a little further from him, leaving him to peruse the hall as they spoke in small, urgent whispers. He decided it would be in his best interest to eavesdrop, and the static of his radio pulsated as he tuned into the conversation.

“-isn't just a happy face! He's a deal maker! Pure evil! He can't be redeemed! ...And is most likely looking for a way to destroy everything we're trying to do!”

“I…” Charlie hesitated, sighing before continuing in her reply, “we don't know that! Look, I know he's bad, and I know he probably doesn't wanna change... but the whole point of this is to give people a chance!”

Hm. Perceptive. Yet, he remained indignant at her judgement. She radiated the feeling that she viewed herself as better than him, and Alastor despised liars.

He turned away, instead focusing his attention on a family portrait featuring the royals of Hell. He quickly glanced over the king, turning his attention for a moment to the princess smiling sweetly in the middle. Her song clipped through his radio for a moment before he finally regarded the queen. Powerful, smiling. Queen Lilith was very obviously the only one in this picture with any control or merit. He listened as the princess debated her choices.

“-have faith things will be better! How can I turn someone away? I can't. It goes against everything I'm trying to do. Everything I believe in. Just... trust me. I can take care of myself!”

Clearly.

“Charlie, whatever you do, do not make a deal with him!”

He regarded the rivaling demon out of the corner of his eye, holding his hand up and curling his fingers as though he was caging her in. If he was presented the opportunity, it would be exactly what he would do. It didn’t matter how much she pleaded with the princess to ignore his advances into their lives, he was determined to have her fall by the wayside, eventually forgotten and ignored. He would not stand for any other voice of reason to rival his own.

He stopped eavesdropping as he watched the princess end the conversation and begin to walk purposefully towards him. It was time.

“Okay, so, Al. You're sketchy as fuck and you clearly see what I'm trying to do here as a joke.”

As the princess turned around, he prepared the magic which would bind her to the deal he had prepared. As she glanced back at him, the sigils disappeared and he smiled innocently.

“But I don't. I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So I'm taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no…” she wiggled her fingers in the air, “tricks or voodoo strings attached.”

Alastor couldn’t help but roll his eyes. She might have been able to convince the other two to discard their vices, but himself? Never. His magic provided him with power, and in Hell, power was everything. Furthermore, the power that nature provided him was in no way a trick, and it was not puppetry. There were no strings involved.

He twirled his microphone and bent down eagerly to her level, extending his hand as a harlequin light engulfed them, swirling a strong wind past all present.

“So it’s a deal then?” he maintained his gaze upon her right hand, expectant and sure that she, being the naïve fool that she was, would accept the handshake.

Instead, she slapped his hand away, refusing the deal, and he could not hide his surprise. He curled his hand into a fist, bringing it to rest by his face as he closed his eyes and composed himself. Not only had she touched him, but she had done so in a forceful way that denied him access to his plans. The setback was horrendously brought about, and he was enraged that he had put all the effort of being friendly forward only to be negated so harshly.

Stepping forward, he heard the princess issue him an official command.

“As princess of Hell and heir to the throne, I, uh, hereby order that you help with this hotel. For as long as you desire.”

The air was heavy with the significance of the ultimatum, and Alastor’s smile widened. Although she had refused his deal, she had allowed him all the verbal agreement needed in order to put his plans into action. He would wear her down. Eventually. Until there was no other option than to finally accept his hand.

“Sound fair?”

“Hmmm,” he pretended to ponder, then started to walk forward, “Fair enough!”

And it was fair. All the pieces he needed to begin his game were finally falling into place, and he refused to think upon the notion of failure.

\---

Thank you for reading chapter 2! I hope you thoroughly enjoyed it, I loved writing this chapter, especially when focusing on the relationship between Charlie and Lucifer. And, although it might seem a little redundant, I thought it was incredibly important to focus on Alastor’s inner monologue as he offered a deal to Charlie. I think he’s incredibly sinister, and I didn’t want to hide it behind another character’s third person point of view.

I’ll update this story soon with chapter three! Again, thank you for reading.


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